L i f e Support
by Musings of a Shaken Mind
Summary: “No other road. No other way. No day but today.” Twilight/RENT x-over. TBC.
1. Chapter 1

**l i f e - s u p p o r t  
A Twilight/RENT Crossover  
by Musings of a Shaken Mind**

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The bag slung over my shoulder is relatively light, but it holds everything I own in this sorry world. Here I am, in this city I've only ever seen in the movies, with nowhere to go, no money, and no food. I've lost so much weight recently, and it isn't all to do with the scarcity of food. I can't afford to lose any more.

I've lost everything. There is nothing left to live for. There hasn't been for three years, since… he left.

"_Steve."_

What am I even doing here? I have no idea. I should be in college. Happy. With friends, and my family surrounding and supporting me.

"_Gordon."_

Around me, the faces are grim.

"_Ally."_

But there's something else, something that I can't quite place. It's not fear, it's something else. Maybe…recklessness. These people are like me; they've nothing to live for.

"_Pam."_

It's my turn, now.

"_Bella."_

These people are just like thousands of others in this city. They're fearful, but this is New York. The streets are dirty, and there's so much wrong and evil festering around me that it makes me terrified even to leave what little shelter I have found.

"_Hi. I'm Angel."_

That's a tall woman from behind me. She's lovely. Her name suits her… Angel. Contrary to the other faces around me, she looks… not happy, exactly, but hardly angry, either. She looks content.

"_Tom—Collins."_

"_I'm Paul. Let's begin."_

The voices begin to rise as one, and the sound makes my eyes moisten. The harmony is so beautiful. It's a sound of hope, of an affirmation, of some kind of saviour. These people thrive off of this support group, that's easy for me to see. I don't join in. The lump in my throat is too solid for me to sing past. I just watch, and I listen.

"_There's only us. There's only this."_

"_Sorry—excuse me… oops."_

A bumbling man enters. He's tall; he looks out of place here, in this quiet church hall. Apparently, Paul thinks so, too.

"_And you are?"_

The man looks flustered, and I feel sorry for him. I smile gently at him, on the off chance that he's looking my way. It's a slight gesture of reassurance, I think, though it's not a real smile. I haven't smiled in three years.

"_Oh, I'm not—I'm just here…to… I don't have…I'm just here with…Mark. Mark. I'm Mark. Well, this is quite an operation…"_

He looks uncomfortable, as his words trail off.

"_Sit down, Mark. We'll continue the affirmation."_

Mark sits, pulling a camera from his bag quietly, and setting it to record, panning it around the circle. I look away. I don't need this right now. I don't want to be filmed like this, when I feel and look like shit.

"_Forget regret—or life is yours to miss."_

The voices swell as the song grows, but this time, it's me who interrupts. I don't know why. I do it without thinking about it, and immediately I regret it, when all pairs of eyes turn towards me.

"_Excuse me, Paul, I'm having a problem with this. This… credo. My T-cells are low. I regret that news, okay?"_

I don't know what I'm trying to achieve, but I have to make them understand.

"_Alright… But Bella, how do you feel today?"_

I don't understand what he wants.

"_What do you mean?"_

"_How do you feel today?"_

I think about it. I'm a twenty-one year old orphan, with no family, and no friends. I'm homeless, and unemployed, and I'm a shell of what I once was. After… they left, I turned to drugs. At least I'm not substance abusing any more, but the needles gave me more than a high.

I'm HIV+.

"_Okay…"_

"_Is that all?"_

"_Best I've felt all year."_

Is it true? As I search, I find the answer. It is.

"_Then, why choose fear?"_

"_I'm a New Yorker." _Or I am now, any way. There's no place else for me to go._ "Fear's my life."_ My new life._ "Look, I find some of what you teach suspect, because I'm used to relying on intellect. I try to open up to what I don't know. Because, reason says I should have died three years ago."_

I did die three years ago. Three long years. I can't remember a time when I was alive, because that's all my life has become. Death. It is filled with death. It doesn't seem fair somehow, considering that once; I had a chance of immortality.

"_No other road. No other way. No day but today."_


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm quite impressed by the response; I wasn't exactly expecting much, this was more for me than for the readers. But hey, I'm hardly one to complain... Thanks! This is a bit of a filler; Bella's story really needs to be written in before I can take the plot anywhere. **

**Anyways... Enjoy!**

**x B

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****l i f e - s u p p o r t  
A Twilight/RENT crossover  
By Musings of a Shaken Mind**

* * *

"_We begin on Christmas Eve. Zoom in on Mark and Bells, my roommates… They're happy—even Bells, for once. But it is Christmas, after all…"_

I pull a face at the camera, which Mark has shoved in my face, before laughing at his expression. "You really think that's necessary?"

He ignores me, returning the friendly grimace. I know his filming hadn't been going so well, recently, and I am kind of concerned. But he will deal. He always does.

"_December 24__th__, 9pm, EST.  
First shot: Bella. She's writing, like always. Second: Roger, tuning the fender guitar that's gotten kinda dusty. He's perfecting a song—which could only be for Mimi. Are you ready? Hold that focus steady."_

My dead heart lurches when Mark speaks so casually about him composing a song for her. I haven't told anyone here about my past; they know I have secrets, but they respect my privacy, so they have never asked. I've never told them about the Cullens, or my parents, or my life back in Forks. That was then. This is now. I live for the present, knowing that my days are numbered, and now the number is smaller than ever. I live by their motto, now. _No day but today._

I've lived in this apartment with Roger and Mark for six months, now. They picked me up, after that first Life support meeting. They were great—the best roommates I could ever have asked for, really. And their friends completely accepted me, too, which was nice—it is comforting to know that these guys won't abandon me. We are all in the same boat.

Collins is coming tonight, with Angel. Mimi plans to head down once she has finished work, and Kate is bringing the alcohol. Maureen and Joanne were invited but, typically, they are fighting, and can't stand being in the same room as one another. So we are expecting neither. Figures.

Mark is poking his camera at Roger, who turns a little pink. The song is, apparently, for Mimi—who he just last week proposed to—finally! I'm really happy for them. They deserve happiness.

I, too, turn my attention to Roger, feeling the pieces of my heart crack a little more for him. I've never met April; she committed suicide before I met Mark and Roger... but I know what her sudden death has done to him. I also know first-hand what the loss of the love of your life can do to you.

We are sort of in the same position. Both of us have lost someone. And both of us were left with something that neither of us wanted, something that will eventually kill both of us. Roger has it, too, see. And Meems. And Collins. And Angel. We're dying of the same thing.

There is a difference, though—Roger has Mimi, now. Collins has his Angel, and Maureen has Joanne… when they aren't fighting. Even Mark has found someone recently, a girl named Kate. I am still the odd one out whenever we invade the Life, or if we make the journey across the city to life support.

Still, we cobble along… in a way. We rely on each other constantly. Mimi is probably my closest friend, followed by Angel. I love all of the bohemians like family; Collins is the father, with Angel as the maternal figure. Mark's the geeky older brother, and Roger is the jaded teen, with Mimi as his rebellious girlfriend. Maureen is the baby; a child, in her own way—and Joanne is her minder. It's strange how they fit into roles that I once thought would never again be filled.

Always, though, on the horizon, is our biggest enemy—besides Benny. Aids looms, darkening all possible future. It seems to shadow my footsteps, never leaving. It is a constant burden, knowing that any moment, I could die. The only ones not directly affected are Maureen, Joanne, Mark and Kate. Strangely, though, I have never begrudged them that, like I might once have.

I've come to accept the fact that I am going to die—or rather, die…more than I already have.

I remember the day I was diagnosed. I'd been so frightened that I'd never told my parents. One of my biggest regrets, as it happens--though I hadn't had had much chance. I found out about my illness only the week before the car that Charlie, Renee and Phil were travelling in together was hit by a truck driver who'd had a little too much to drink down at the pub. They died instantly, before I could tell them what was going on.

It was a huge blow, to lose all three of those parental figures at the same time, having just found out that I suffered from a terminal illness.

And they had died only a month after my other family had abandoned me.

It had hurt so damn much at the time, I'm still not sure what got me through the pain. The drugs, probably. I kept using them after the death of my parents, in even more life-threatening amounts. I never quite took enough, for a reason that I can't remember, to send me over the edge--though I was certain that I had nothing left to live for.

I was so scared, when I was diagnosed. Completely petrified. There I was—eighteen years old, with no family and no friends, with an illness that would eventually kill me. I had no one to turn to. I didn't know what people would say, and I was terrified. _Will I lose my dignity?_

I stayed in Forks until I was twenty, but the place sickened me. I was constantly badgered my memories of people and places, and one day… I just couldn't take it any more. I was clean, by then… after that one near-overdose that had left me unconscious in hospital, I had realised what a stupid thing this was for me to do to myself, and so I'd stopped. But still, I had no one. So I decided that I had to just leave. I sold the house to the first interested person, and I was gone. _Will someone care?_

So I packed up. It was cowardly of me, but I was scared of what people would say, when they found out. So I left Forks, and travelled any way I could to New York City. Eventually, I made it—my twenty-first had passed by then—and I found myself in the Life support meeting… and the rest, as they say, is history. _Will I wake tomorrow, from this nightmare?_

It still feels like a nightmare sometimes, like in the old days, it is so surreal. The fact that one teenager could experience so much in such a short period of time hurts me. What have I done wrong? Am I being punished for something? If so, I can't think what. Is it because I brushed with the secret world of the supernatural? That is all I can think of.

Though, sometimes, I wonder if that was an illusion, too.

Angel was literally… an angel. She helped me see that I'm not completely worthless, that I was loved. She helped me through the worst time of my life, and she gave me something to live for in the Bohemians. It isn't much, but it suffices.

_Will I lose my dignity?  
Will someone care?  
Will I wake tomorrow, from this nightmare?_

I start suddenly from my pensive mood; someone is calling my name. It's Collins, and he's got champagne. I smile slightly up at his concerned face, an expression he returns, as Angel appears at his side.

"Hey, Bells. How're things?"

"Alright, Angel, thanks."

It's not even a total lie. For now.


	3. Chapter 3

**By the way, in response to a review, the Cullens will be a part of this story. I just haven't got there, yet. Let me sort myself out, first. Kay?**

**x B**

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**L i f e Support  
A RENT/Twilight Crossover  
By Musings of a Shaken Mind**

**

* * *

**

"_Valentine's Day. Pan across the empty lot. Roger's down at Mimi's, where he's been for nearly six months. They're probably making wedding preparations. Either that, or starting the honeymoon early. God knows where Collins and Angel are… could be that new shantytown at the river, or it could be a suite at the plaza. Maureen and Joanne are rehearsing—that is, if they're speaking, this week. Bella's around somewhere. I'm fairly sure she hates Valentine's Day, though none of us have worked out why, so she's on her own. Me? I'm here. Nowhere."_

I walk quickly along the street, on the way back to the loft. Despite the fact that it is practically spring, there's a chill in the air. I wrap by somewhat threadbare coat around me as I walk quickly down the street. The clouds gather overhead; it looks like it might rain. Or snow, perhaps. Either way, I don't want to be caught out by the weather. It's Valentine's Day. One of my least favourite days of the year. I think that it was probably designed to mock the singles of the world-- it's a cruel thing.

I'm on my way home from work. Honestly? I never thought I'd find myself here; I work with Meems now, at the Catscratch. I'm a dancer, like her. It's a living, I suppose. I don't enjoy my work, but that's a luxury that none of us expect, so it's fine. I think. It helps pay the rent, anyway.

The first snowflake falls, and it brushes my cheek as it's pulled down by gravity. I halt momentarily, staring up at the sky, and more flakes, as they fall, caress my face. It's going to be heavy. I shiver again, but this time, it's not the weather that bothers me. I feel someone's eyes staring at me, and suddenly, I'm terrified. It seems like I live in constant fear, here.

I look around warily—suddenly, I can't breathe.

There's a packet, there, illuminated by the streetlamp. It's held by a hand, which must be attached to a body hidden in the shadows.

_No._

It's a small packet, but it's enough. There's a white powder in it. I feel my heart accelerate violently, even just by looking at it.

_Yes._

I'm at war with myself. But I'm not strong enough, not really.

"How much?"

The figure steps forward now, so that I can sort of see him. His face is cast in shadow by a hood that's pulled up to hide his features. He's tall and underfed—like most here. I can tell he's male, too.

And he has what I want.

"Depends, sweet 'art."

"On what?"

"How much you're willin' to pay."

He grins, and I feel a sudden urge to run away. But that white powder holds me here, powerless. I remain silent.

"Fifty."

I gape at him. Fifty? That's a bit steep… there's no way I have that kind of money to spend freely on drugs. But my tips from the nights work seem to begin to burn in my pocket, and I pull out fifty in ten-dollar bills. It's most of my night's work, but I don't care. The need is too great. I'm still under the spell of the heroin. Rent will have to wait.

He tosses the tiny packet at me as soon as the money is in his hand, and disappears into the night. The entire exchange has taken maybe thirty seconds. But it will change my life.

I stare down at the little packet in my hand. Do I really want to do this to myself? The answer is suddenly obvious.

Yes, actually. Yes, I do.

I inhale the drugs right there, in the middle of the street, and instantly, I feel victorious.

Then I begin to remember the day I went clean. Two years ago. To the day, actually—Valentine's Day.

"_Miss Swan, I wanted to talk to you about your options… obviously you are not coping well with the death of—"_

"_I'm coping fine."_

_The doctor raises an eyebrow. Oh. I'm in a hospital bed. Right. I admit, it must look pretty bad from where he is… "Look, I'm dealing with this, okay?"_

"_I understand that, Miss Swan, but I'm afraid that this is the wrong way to be dealing with your parents' deaths."_

"_This is the only way I know how to deal, Doctor Whyte."_

"_There are other ways, Isabella. I have a friend… she's an excellent psychiatrist… perhaps I could schedule a meeting."_

"_You think I need to go see a shrink?"_

_The doctor flinches slightly at the term. "Isabella, please…"_

"_It's Bella."_

"_Right—Bella. Please, I think this could be beneficial for you. I really don't think that the way you're dealing with this is…appropriate. I understand that this is a difficult time for you, but I really think that—"_

"_I'm not going to see a shrink, Doctor." I stand up. "I just need to get away for a while that's all. I'm not insane, okay? I just need some time to think."_

Even though I'd never gone to see the psychiatrist, that visit to the hospital had done me a world of good. It had opened my eyes sufficiently; I could see what I was doing to myself, what I'd already done to myself... and it horrified me. I haven't done drugs, since.

Well, until now.

The familiar feeling washes over me, and I smile, My body relaxes almost immediately, like it has been waiting for this for two long years of abstinence. I'm giddy with relief as I slide the remainder of the powder into the pocket of my coat, fingers staying curled protectively around the packet as I make my way down the street.

I let myself in at the door. I don't know where everyone is, but it doesn't matter. I don't really care. I slide open the old, battered door of the apartment, stumbling slightly as I cross the threshold. Everything, in my drug-induced state, is uproariously funny, and I giggle uncontrollably at my inherited clumsiness. It isn't something I've managed to overcome. I collapse on the sofa, pulling off my coat and kicking off my heels, and close my eyes.

I hear the door open and then close, but I don't bother looking up to see who it is. Probably Roger, or Mark.

"Bella?"

Oops, wrong. It's Mimi. She's getting married in two days... I'm the bridesmaid.

"Meems… over here." I'm amazed that the words are coherent. Mimi makes her way over, and then inhales sharply.

"Bella, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

Oops. I forgot that Mimi used to do drugs herself. I suppose she knows what I've done. She can probably tell. And I don't really want to think about what this is doing to her. She's going to hate me, I'm sure of it.

"S'not what you think, Meems… I know what I'm doing…"

"Like hell you do!" She sounds pretty angry now. "Give me the packet, Bells! All of it."

No… no, I can't let her take it away. I tell her so. She doesn't take it well.

"Isabella, would you like me to get Mark? I'm sure he could deal with this. Or Roger?"

My eyes pop open. Roger would be pretty pissed if he found out I was doing drug again. It had nearly killed him when he'd found Mimi that one time I am often told about, shivering in the park after a slight overdose. When they found out that I'm an ex-junkie myself, Roger, playing the older brother role again, hammered it into my brain that I was never to touch drugs again. He takes 'overprotective' to the next level. "Don't, Mimi, please...you know what he's like…"

"Exactly, now give it here, or I swear to god, Bells, I'll—"

"Alright, alright… stop fussing… Here."

It physically hurts me to hand the little packet over. It's only going to hurt more when I come down from this high. I watch as Mimi empties the packet into the sink.

"What happened, Bella?" When she turns, her eyes seem a little red, like she's crying. Oops. I didn't mean to upset her. I hate it when Mimi cries. "I thought you went clean?"

I shrug, not really caring, because of the drug. "I did. S'pretty hard, though, you know? And then, the man came…"

"Man?" Mimi's suddenly alert. "Who? Who gave you this?"

"Dunno… just a man. A dealer, I guess."

"Isabella Swan, I want you to promise me… please, don't do that again. You scared me, when I came in. You were so pale… I thought you'd collapsed! I thought you'd--" She stops suddenly, breathing in quickly, trying to regain her composure.

"Yeah, yeah…" I wave a hand dismissively at her. "Whatever. I promise."

"No, Bella… you have to mean it. I know it's hard—I know better than anyone—but this is for your own good."

My own good? I think about that. I have very little to live for. Next to nothing, in fact. In my hazy state, my mind drifts back to the Cullens. The pain has mostly gone now, there's just bitterness left behind. It strikes me, suddenly, how much Mimi reminds me of Esme, right at this second.

That thought proves too much for me in my fragile state. Quiet, broken sobs echo through the apartment, and I realise with a start that that's me. I pull my knees up to my chest, and wrap my arms around my legs, trying to stop the shaking.

"Oh, Bella…" Mimi's there, now. She sits quickly down, and joins me in my desperate sobbing.

For a long time, we sit there together, and we cry.


End file.
